No Snooze is Good Snooze
by nanniships
Summary: Yet another Baxley drabble prompt from the nonsexual intimacy collection from tumblr, but this one got away from me: accidentally falling asleep together


Ultimately, Joseph Moseley blamed it on his inexperience with cinema. Had he sought advice, he would have been steered towards something else - lighter fare with a cracking love story, perhaps, or a rollicking adventure guaranteed to keep you reading the title cards.

He did not, however, seek out the sound advice of those who had asked women to accompany them to the pictures. If he had, he would have decided what to see before asking. He would not have asked out of the blue. And he would not have made it sound like an invitation to a scheduled devouring by tigers.

And he most certainly wouldn't have chosen _Metropolis_ for their viewing pleasure. Of which it turned out to be not so much, really.

Yes, as he and Miss Baxter scurried desperately down the lane to the servant's entrance of the Abbey, he most definitely blamed his own inexperience. And the glances he stole at Miss Baxter's anxious face only strengthened his conclusion that he had no business trying to court someone. It was something of a miracle that she'd agreed to go with him in the first place…

" _Miss Baxter…."_

 _"_ _Yes?"_

 _"_ _I was wondering…"_

 _"_ _Yes?"_

 _"_ _Well…You get the odd half day still…"_

 _"_ _Yes…"_

 _"_ _We've only got a half day Wednesday next and I was wondering…"_

 _"_ _What were you wondering?"_

 _"_ _Would you, maybe…. I was thinking…."_

 _"_ _What is it, Mr. Molesley?"_

 _"_ _wouldyouliketogotothepictureswithme?"_

 _"_ _What?"_

 _"_ _The pictures."_

 _"_ _What about them?"_

 _"_ _Would you?"_

 _"_ _Would I what?"_

 _"_ _I understand if you've got other plans."_

 _"_ _Other plans for what? What are you on about?"_

 _"_ _It was a silly idea, I suppose."_

 _"_ _I still don't know what your idea is, Mr. Molesley."_

 _"_ _What?"_

If the whole embarrassing attempt hadn't been leavened by her curious little smile and amused, shining eyes, he was convinced he would have made a strangled noise and dropped dead on the spot. By the time it was all cleared up, he was beaming and Phyllis Baxter was laughing and agreeing to accompany him to the pictures in Ripon Wednesday next. She didn't even seem to care that he didn't have a film in mind yet.

And, of course, after much deliberation, he chose a film he believed to have some sort of redeeming message about social values rather than some bit of stuff more appropriate for twitterpated youngsters. The newest magnum opus out of Germany - from whence all intellectual and art films sprang. He didn't bother learning all that much about it, sadly, before determining that would be their choice.

" _It's had rave reviews in Germany!"_

 _"_ _Has it? What's it about?"_

 _"_ _Ummm….change in the world and the way it impacts us all, I think."_

 _"_ _You think?"_

 _"_ _Well, the synopsis was in German, so…."_

 _"_ _Is the film in German too?"_

 _"_ _I don't think so. The title cards would be in English anyway. Wouldn't they?"_

In retrospect, he should have gone with twitterpated.

But he couldn't object to the excitement he'd felt when they were finally seated in the theater and the piano was playing as the advertisement cards flashed on the screen. The theater was practically empty, dark and rather cozy. They chatted together in loud whispers until the SILENCE PLEASE card went up, then continued talking in lower whispers as the film started off with dramatic, sweeping footage of a bright and glorious cityscape.

Sadly, that was pretty much the high point for it. Oh, they both had to admit that the filming was marvelous, but Joseph struggled to follow the plot and wondered at times if there was one. Phyllis was lost as well, and kept asking _him_ to explain things. They wound up just looking at one another in puzzlement.

"This wasn't what I'd expected," he confessed.

"Maybe it made more sense in the German," she suggested.

Their eyes met and suddenly Joe began to chuckle. Phyllis put her hand over her mouth to stifle her own laughter. There was an annoyed shushing sound from the seats closer to the screen.

"I'm sorry about this," he muttered.

"That's alright," she assured him. "It's…it's not so bad."

"We could leave, if you'd rather…"

"Why don't we give it another chance," she suggested kindly.

Joseph smiled and they turned their attention back to the screen as the film went on.

And on…and on…and on…with no signs of stopping.

After almost two hours, the flickering lights finally illuminated an ornately scrolled THE END. But neither of them noticed it. The long day and incomprehensible plot had taken their toll on them both.

Joseph's head was tipped back against the seat. His mouth was open slightly as he breathed deeply.

Phyllis had tipped sideways in her seat until her head was resting against Joseph's shoulder. Her face was turned into the wool of his coat and she rubbed it from time to time as the scent of his cologne, a slight smokiness, and india ink filled her dreams.

No one noticed them as the theater emptied out. No one noticed them as the projectionist and musician took their leave. No one noticed them, in fact, until a grumpy, tired woman with a mop and bucket happened to catch a glimpse of them as she methodically and grimly mopped the floors.

"'ere now! Whacher think yer doin'?" she demanded, poking Joseph's feet with the wet end of the mop.

Joseph began to crawl out of a deep sleep, feeling the stab of pain in his neck first, then noticing the stir of Phyllis' face in his shoulder and her hand fisted in his coat sleeve.

"What? What happened?" he asked bewildered as Phyllis slowly opened her eyes and blinked at him in confusion.

"Joseph?" she murmured. "What's going on?" Realizing she was leaning against his shoulder, she abruptly sat up and looked around frantically.

"Don't yez got _homes_ to go ta?" the cleaning woman demanded. "Gettin' up to all sorts 'ere in the dark…"

"We fell asleep!" Joseph protested indignantly.

"Oh my God! We fell asleep!" Phyllis echoed. "Joseph, have we missed the last bus back?"

"Surely not," he replied, anxiously trying to scan his watch in the dim light of the theater. When he saw the time, he staggered up out of his seat and unceremoniously hauled Phyllis out of hers.

"We've got to hurry!" Pulling Phyllis behind him, he moved as quickly as he could towards the theater entrance, trying to ignore the snort of derision and continued muttered accusations from the cleaning woman.

They rushed towards the bus stop, breathing heavily when they were able to flag down the last bus and drop heavily onto the bench.

"Thank God," they both said simultaneously, looking at each other with relieved smiles. Then they broke out in laughter.

"I don't know why I'm laughing," Phyllis said from behind her hand. "It's not at all funny. We could have been stranded. In _Ripon_."

"That would have been difficult to explain," he agreed with a giggle.

"That would have been impossible to explain, Mr. Molesley," she replied, taking a deep breath. "And I'll still have to explain why I'm out so late as it is." She suddenly looked horrified. "What if I'm locked out…?"

This was the thought that filled their minds as they traveled the lane to the servant's entrance. All was dark and still in the courtyard. Phyllis stood for a moment in front of the door, biting her lower lip.

"What if it's locked?" she whispered.

"We ring?"

"Who'll hear it?"

"Just try the door, Phyllis," he pleaded. "The suspense is killing me."

With a quick glare at him, she gingerly turned the knob and pushed. They both breathed heavy sighs of relief as it swung open heavily into the dark corridor. There didn't seem to be any lights on.

"It looks like we made it," Joseph whispered triumphantly as they stole inside. "They must have all gone up."

"Hmmm…." she mused as they made their way into the servant's hall. "If they've all gone up, then why was the door left open at all?"

"Who was supposed to close it?" he asked.

"That would be me, Mr. Molesley," drawled a familiar voice from the chair next to the flickering, dying fireplace. They spun around to stare at Mr. Barrow, who stared back with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Joseph's mouth opened and closed like a fish in a net. Phyllis just sighed and placed a calming hand on his arm.

"Sorry to be so late. We fell asleep at the film," she informed Mr. Barrow, whose smile widened. He gave Joseph a sly glance.

Joseph shuffled from foot to foot and felt heat creeping up his neck.

"It's late," he managed to croak. "I suppose we should say goodnight, Phy—Miss Baxter."

Mr. Barrow's eyebrows flew up. Phyllis glared at him a moment than gently turned Joseph towards the door and pushed him lightly in the small of his back. Taking the hint, he began to head for the door.

"This hasn't been the evening I was hoping for," he said in a low voice, looking past her head to see Mr. Barrow standing in the door from the servant's hall, watching in amusement.

"I didn't think it was," she replied with a smile, "but I did get a decent nap out of it."

A grin broke across Joseph's face and they smiled at each other until Mr. Barrow cleared his throat loudly.

"We could give it another go," he blurted, "if you'd like."

"I would, but perhaps a different sort of film next time," she suggested.

"How about you pick the next one?"

She watched him walk across the courtyard, waving when he turned back before disappearing into the night. Then she turned back to see Mr. Barrow leaning against the corridor wall, watching her with an expectant expression.

"Not that it's any of my business—" he began.

"You're right," she informed him briskly. "I'll say goodnight, Mr. Barrow."

"And that's all you have to say?" he asked her back as she went up the stairs.

"Thank you for not locking up."


End file.
